


sunrises and sweet surprises

by sweetwatersong



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Pancakes, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of surprising: Natasha and Kate broke in to make breakfast in Clint's apartment. </p>
<p>Really surprising: They found something to actually make breakfast with. </p>
<p>Not surprising: This wasn't the strangest thing Clint had ever woken up to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunrises and sweet surprises

**Author's Note:**

> For bgamerica, who prompted "clint wakes up to find natasha and kate bonding over pancakes and coffee and spoiling his dog. how the hell did they even get into his apartment"

The only thing that saved this whole situation, Clint thought as he stood in his bedroom doorway and watched the chaos raging in his apartment, was that he smelled coffee. And fresh coffee, not the kind that had been reheated and burned so many times it had earned the consistency of sludge. (And whatever Kate told you, he had never let his own coffee pot get that bad. Or drunk it anyway, if it did. Lies, all of it.)

Kate looked up from rubbing Lucky’s ears and spotted him, her face brightening.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Finally decided to join the party?"

"What party?" He retorted, shuffling towards the ever-alluring scent of coffee. Mm, coffee. "You’re here, doesn’t that kind of kill the buzz?"

"Look at him, trying to use modern slang," Natasha said from where she was presiding over - he squinted - pancakes. Where had she gotten stuff for pancakes from? His last attempt at baking had ended early, courtesy of the mealworms wriggling in the flour. "But you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks."

"Morning to you too," he grumbled, catching the flash of amusement she sent his way before turning back to the sizzling pans. Lucky panted happily, his beater-brush tail thumping on the floor with unabashed pleasure at all the attention. Clint patted his thigh in the signal for ‘heel’; his well-trained, masterfully obedient dog stayed right beside Kate. Traitor.

"Did you give Lucky pizza for dinner last night?" Kate asked, stretching out a leg to take up more space than she had to in his cramped kitchen. Three people (and accompanying dog) made for tight quarters.

"Don’t know why you’d think that," Clint mumbled, opening a cabinet and studying the dusty shelves inside. Contemplating the lack of clean mugs seemed a better alternative than meeting Kate’s pointed gaze.

"Really. Because the crumbs of crust and tomato sauce in his food bowl are a dead give-away."

"He likes pizza.” Beside him Natasha shifted and extended a hand with a familiar purple coffee mug in it. He took it gratefully, pleasantly surprised to notice that there were no old coffee rings or suspicious spots of funnily-colored mold inside, and poured the delicious-smelling coffee in.

"He’s a dog. There’s such a thing as dog food, you know."

"Yeah, like pizza."

Mm, coffee.

He maneuvered around the women busy poking their noses into his life to slouch on a stool at the counter, resting his head on a fist.

"I’d worry more except that, while I don’t trust Clint to take care of himself, he’s typically better about his pets," Natasha informed Kate, and slipped a plate of golden pancakes in front of Clint.

"Do I want to know how you got in here?" He asked, squinting at her. She continued to serve the pancakes with a deft hand, ignoring his question as though it were idiotic and yeah, this was Natasha, so it kind of was. Kate dumped cutlery by his hand and added a napkin almost as an after-thought, preoccupied by keeping Lucky from snacking off her plate.

Clint looked down, picking up a fork before studying his plate with a wary eye. Natasha set the maple syrup beside him and leaned across the counter to brush a kiss against his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Clint," she told him, and relaxed against the sink to eat her own pancakes.

His small apartment filled with life and laughter (even if it was about him), surrounded by the comfort of good food and better friends, Clint took a bite and grinned.

Yeah, it was a happy birthday, after all.


End file.
